


Shame

by cestlestialbeings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Internalized Homophobia, Prostitute Dean Winchester, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28300020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestlestialbeings/pseuds/cestlestialbeings
Summary: Dean is forced to turn tricks in order to make ends meet.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 55





	1. Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean returns home with enough money for food, but Sam wonders how Dean got the money and why he's acting strangely

Sam is hungry. He hasn’t eaten since last night, a little over twenty-four hours ago, when they ran out of food and money. Dean disappeared a few hours ago, going who-knows-where, so Sam can only wait, feeling bitter and hungry.

Dean comes back a little after ten P.M.

“Heya, Sammy,” he says, voice hoarse, and he gives Sam a weak, wavering smile. His collar is turned up on one side, but Sam can see just a little bit of the hickey on his neck peeking out. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up slightly, and Sam can see fresh, still-red bruises around both of Dean’s wrists. Dean quickly rolls down his sleeves when he notices Sam looking.

“Where have you been?” Sam asks, trying and failing to put together the contradicting signs. Fooling around with a girl, or getting into fights? Either is normal for Dean, but he’s not quite acting like himself. Like he’s trying to hide something.

Dean shrugs. “Out.”He walks past Sam towards the bathroom. There’s something a little off about his gait, like he’s hurting in some way.

“Dean?” Sam says. His irritation is gone, replaced with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Dean says. He forces another smile and slips into the bathroom, closing the door behind himself.

Sam hears the shower turn on, and the water keeps running for a long time. Twenty minutes, maybe thirty, before it shuts off, and Dean comes out fully dressed, toweling his hair dry. He’s still too subdued, not quite back to normal.

“You want to go get some burgers?” Dean asks, tossing his towel over the back of a chair. Sam hesitates. Just last night, they hadn’t had enough to buy food, and now…?

“We’ve got enough now,” Dean says, and Sam swears he can see a flash of shame cross Dean’s features. Dean throws an arm around Sam’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go.”

Sam wants to ask where Dean got the money, why he’s acting weird. But he knows his brother well enough to know that Dean doesn’t want to talk about it, so Sam doesn’t ask.


	2. Unclean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet - Dean doubts his masculinity as he does what he has to in order to eat.

Dean hasn’t eaten in three days. He’d been giving the last of their food to Sam, hoping Dad would come through and return with some money, but he never did. Dean desperately hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but once he started feeling light-headed and weak from hunger, he couldn’t avoid it anymore.

So now he’s on his knees on the sticky floor of a bathroom stall, in a dive bar so sketchy that he hadn’t even been asked for ID.

He tries to clear his mind, dissociate from what’s happening, what he’s doing. Rough hands slide through his hair and the man pushes himself deeper into Dean’s throat. Dean gags, unbidden tears springing to his eyes. _You like that, you filthy faggot?_ Dean hears, as if from a distance.

When the man is done, he drops a hundred dollar bill on the floor and leaves the stall. Dean wipes cum away from his mouth with the back of his hand and tries to fight down the nausea building within him. Nausea from this place, from the smell of urine and the salty taste of cum, but also from what he’d just done.

He leans forward over the toilet and throws up, stomach acid the only thing coming up from his empty stomach. He retches a few more times and then grabs the money from the floor and stumbles to the sink. He washes his hands with soap, and then again, then splashes water on his face and rinses out his mouth. A couple guys entering the bathroom give him a sly smirk, picking up from his appearance exactly what he’d been up to. He wants to punch them. But he’s too tired, and he’s too hungry, so he dries his face and leaves.

First he stops at a burger joint nearby and drops ten dollars to buys a burger and fries and milkshake that he inhales so fast that he gets an almost immediate stomachache. But at least he’s full.

Next he stops at the open-late, mom-and-pop grocery store on the way back to the motel. He’s got enough to feed both himself and Sam for a week, probably a bit more, as long as he shops cheap. He grabs a basket and fills up on the usual—mac and cheese, instant ramen, hot dogs, peanut butter and bread. He tries to hold his hand steady as he takes each thing off the shelf, but he can’t stop trembling. He tells himself to stop thinking about it, but the man’s words echo in his head. _Filthy faggot._ He wants to throw the rest of the money away, never think about it—or how he got it—ever again. But he doesn’t have that luxury. Sam’s depending on him.

When he gets home, he takes a hot shower. The scalding water doesn’t do anything to wash off the feelings of shame clinging to him. What kind of man is he, turning tricks for cash? What would Dad think of him, debasing himself like this?

He rinses his mouth with Listerine, once, twice, three times. It doesn’t erase the memories of the man’s cum, sticky and warm in his mouth. He rests his palms on the edge of the counter and leans against it, taking deep breaths. He needs to pull himself together. Sam’s in the other room and Dean doesn’t want to let him know something’s wrong.

“What’s with the long showers lately?” Sam asks, as soon as Dean walks out of the bathroom. “Are you a girl now or something?”

Dean looks away, feeling like he’s been punched in the gut. _Faggot_ , he hears again in his head. “Shut up,” he says to Sam, trying to keep his voice light, trying to pretend he’d taken it as a joke and not a reminder of what he’d done.

He starts pulling groceries out of the paper bags on the table and Sam comes over to look at what Dean got. “Gross, you couldn’t have gotten anything else?” he whines. “I’m so sick of all this stuff.”

Dean tenses, seeing red for a moment. “Jesus Christ, Sammy!” Dean slams a jar of peanut butter on the table with a loud _bang_. “Can you just shut the _fuck_ up and be grateful for what I got you? For once in your goddamn life?” He takes a shaky breath, surprised at his outburst.

Sam goes completely silent. “Sorry,” he says softly, barely audible, and he moves away from Dean.

Dean immediately feels guilty, but he doesn’t have the energy to comfort Sam, not tonight. He finishes putting away the groceries and goes to bed feeling full, really full, for the first time in almost a week.

He wishes that were a relief.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Thoughts and constructive criticism are appreciated :)


End file.
